Soaked Thong Novels & Stories

Sparkling and naked. By sparkling, I meant that I was wearing two-piece rhinestone lingerie. It left little to no imagination for my boys. The thong was crotchless, and it was basically strings, flossing my booty. I guess Addison was right about the discomfort. I can already feel the rhinestones digging into my skin.

I appreciate that. He handed me a bag from Victoria’s Secret and told me to open it. Inside was a very black lacy bra and a thong. He asked if I ever wore a thong and I answered, "Yes." He smiled, as this was now going to be one more thing between us. “Thursday you wear my gift,” he said, sliding the thong along my thigh. “I want that string to disappear between these red handprints while I fuck you senseless.” He said he didn’t care what I wore over his present to the motel.

The lace thong was already soaked through—had been since the bar when his knee first brushed mine under the table and the movement made a fresh slick slide down my inner thigh. He didn’t smile or compliment me. Just dropped his keys on the side table and closed the distance in two steps, and hooked one finger under the edge of my dress. Lifted it slowly… enough to expose the black lace thong clinging wetly to my folds, then slid his hand between my thighs without hesitation.

Our eyes meet for a split second pure fire in them before he mumbles something about fresh air and heads out. Outside by the garage side door, I'm freezing my tits off in nothing but sheer black thigh-highs, a red satin thong that's so tiny it's practically nonexistent, and Marcus's oversized flannel draped open like an invitation. The cold snaps at my nipples, turning them into hard, aching peaks. I'm already soaked, my thighs slick just from the buildup of anticipation.

I was certain I'd never been this wet before in my entire life. I made a real show of slowly sliding the soaked thong down my thighs before stepping out of it, even though it was a bit of a challenge getting it over the boots. My pussy was a sticky, soaked mess and I was almost certain that my aromatic bouquet could be smelled at our front door. I moved to the foot of our bed. "Get your tongue out of your mouth." He complied, extending his tongue as far out as he could. Facing away from him, I lowered myself onto his waiting mouth. Almost immediately, it felt as if lightning bolts were shooting through my body.

Dacey sputtered. “That’s easy to fix. You just don’t wear one.” “But what will I wear?” “That lovely ... It’s called a thong, isn’t it?” “And what else? And that thong only covers my slit; my buns are completely bare.” “And they’re utterly gorgeous! With your all-over tan and the white line of the thong in your crack ... Gorgeous!” By this time the two had risen to their feet with Dace standing close just looking up at him. “And on top?” she asked.

She bent over to get a manual from the lower shelf and my eyes popped out of their sockets. As she bent down, Martha’s ass formed a perfect double-U shape as her pants hugged her seat in skin-tight fashion. As many tricky women do, Martha wore thong underwear to hide any potential panty lines. Per my own personal fantasy, she was wearing exactly that and as she leaned forward, the waistband of her thong, a fire-engine red satin color, rode up nicely above her pants’ slim waist line. My God, her ass was tight.

"Soaked for your man” He didn’t make me wait. His mouth descended, hot and demanding, and his tongue laved a long, slow stripe through my drenched folds. I gasped, my hips jerking off the bed. He groaned against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my sensitive flesh. His tongue delved deeper, circling my clit with firm, relentless pressure before sucking it gently into the heat of his mouth.

Red, lace thong. "Fuck" He whispered, eyes glued to the sight of deep crimson against soft honeyed skin, the way the fabric sits snug over her legs. Damon was sure that Mia liked the feeling of the material though. Damon placed a hand on her upper leg, the tips of his fingers curling into the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and making his employee shiver again. "You are already wet for me, kitten" The CEO murmured, almost wondrously. He trailed his fingers over the top of the panties, noticing Mia tremble beneath him. Damon dragged a finger down the centre of the thong, hearing her suck a sharp breath.

Kissed the side of my neck. “Basement. One a.m. Wear nothing but that little black thong you think I don’t know about. Leave the rest.” He walked away. I spent the next five hours vibrating. Showered slow—scrubbed every inch, shaved everything smooth, oiled my skin until it gleamed. Slipped into the thong—black lace, barely there—and nothing else. The fabric was already damp by the time I pulled it up my thighs.